


Scrapbook

by CanaryCry



Series: DickTiger Week 2018 [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Grayson (Comics)
Genre: DickTigerWeek2018, Established Relationship, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, Love Letters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 17:23:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13815897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanaryCry/pseuds/CanaryCry
Summary: DickTiger Week Day 6: Love LetterDick and Tiger leave each other letters whenever they're apart.





	Scrapbook

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot even describe how tired I am. I hope this fic makes sense because it's the best I can do today.
> 
> Spoilers for the end of the Grayson comic.

Neither Dick nor Tiger could remember who left the first letter, but it soon became a habit. Whenever one would be absent for a time, they would leave a note. They both left them for each other when on separate missions and Tiger would leave them when he rose early to pray.

Dick started collecting them, though he hadn't told Tiger. After Spyral, they were all Dick had to remember him by while Tiger took over the organisation and flew across the world on missions that required his personal touch.

This stretched on for months. Dick returned to Gotham, to Nightwing, to his family. But early every morning, no matter how tired he was, he would jolt awake as if expecting Tiger to be there, getting out of bed to pray.

He wasn't there, and now Dick couldn't sleep. One morning, exhausted and fed up, Dick found the file he kept Tiger's notes in. He'd managed to snag it while leaving his quarters at Spyral after the fight was over, having left it behind when the pair of them went on the run. They had left each other short notes on the backs of wrappers while going against Spyral, but most of those had ended up stashed in Tiger's vest pouches.

Dick laid the notes he did have out on the floor and began to sort them into chronological order, relieved that Tiger had dated every single one. Maybe he knew Dick wanted to keep them, even if fraternisation had technically been against the rules.

The first one Dick could find, though he was fairly certain there had been a few before, was dated for a mission Tiger undertook while Dick was recovering from a broken rib.

_Do not break anything else while I am gone._

Tiger hadn't signed that one. That came later. He had still been too awkward about their relationship at this time, closer to frenemies-with-benefits than romance.

_Go back to sleep. I will return soon._

Written the first time they had spent the whole night together, and Tiger briefly left to pray in the early hours of the morning.

Dick separated the morning prayer notes from the mission notes, and soon his bedroom floor was covered with papers. A physical representation of their time together.

Then he found another of the _go back to sleep_ notes, a few months after the first. The one that made things all too real.

_Prayer. Go back to sleep. I love you._

It was the first time Tiger had said those words in any form, and he didn't return to bed that morning. Dick had given him a few hours of space before sliding a note beneath his bedroom door for him to find later. Dick didn't have that one, but it had been short and simple and easy to remember:

_I love you, too._

Dick missed him. Terribly.

He sorted the notes in an exhausted daze, and then ate three bowls of cereal. That ate up the time until stores began to open, so Dick threw on some clothes and headed down the street fuelled by coffee and loneliness.

He needed a scrapbook. Now.

* * *

Tiger had finally carved out some time to leave Spyral. He did not trust his agents to survive without him for long, but they had improved in the months since he had taken over. Long enough that he could visit Gotham for a few days.

Batman and his associates changed their communicator frequencies often, so Dick had not bothered to give him that. Instead, he gave a piece of advice: watch the batsignal.

So Tiger settled on a building close to the GCPD, but not close enough to raise alarm, and watched through binoculars every time the signal hit the sky. Batman arrived on the roof with Robin, a grumpy young teenager whose legs were growing faster than the rest of him. Nightwing joined them moments later. Perfect.

He tracked Nightwing's progress as he separated from the pair, flying south through the use of his grapnel launcher. Tiger followed, close enough that Nightwing would notice him, but not so close that he would be alarmed.

Nightwing landed on the roof of an apartment complex, leaning against the fire escape railing. Tiger dropped beside him.

“I thought it was you,” Nightwing replied. “Already radioed the fam. I'm free for the night.”

“Did you tell them why?”

“I told them I had a last-minute meeting with the new head of Spyral.” Nightwing started down the fire escape, beckoning Tiger to follow. “Pretty sure Red Robin has me figured out, but he won't say anything.”

They climbed down a set of stairs and Nightwing pressed a short code into a keypad on the nearest windowsill. There was a soft click, and he slid the window open.

By the time Tiger joined him in what appeared to be the bedroom, Dick had switched on the bedside lamp and discarded his mask, gloves and boots. He reached past Tiger to shut the window and remained close, turning his back.

“Unzip me?”

“Do you always get help undressing?” Tiger asked, dragging the zipper down from Dick's neck to his waist, letting himself stroke the exposed skin with the backs of his fingers.

Dick stepped out of his uniform and tossed it aside, standing in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts that Tiger couldn't believe had actually fit under his uniform. “No. But you were right there.” He slid Tiger's backpack off his shoulders and tossed it on the bed. “You hungry? I've got some leftover noodles in the fridge with our names on them.”

“Are you going to put clothes on?”

“Wasn't planning to.” Dick led Tiger out of the bedroom and sat him on the couch. “I'll be back in a minute.”

Dick's living room was only a few feet long, housing a couch, television and a coffee table buried under piles of... everything.

On top of the pile sat a photo album or scrapbook. The title read: _Love Letters_. Tiger knew Dick had taken his file of letters home with him, but if he had really put in the effort to preserve them like this...

Tiger picked up the book and brought it into the kitchen. “Is this what I think it is?”

Dick turned away from the microwave, eyes widening as he took in what was in Tiger's hands. “Uh, probably? Open it.”

Tiger set the book on the tiny card table and pulled back the cover. The front page held the title again, surrounded by pictures of various birds.

“Damian was going through a bird phase with his art,” Dick explained, staring into the microwave. “He only complained a tiny bit when I asked him to draw me something. Whatever he wanted. Spot the robin.”

A small robin red-breast was perched in the bottom-right corner. “Does he know what this is for?”

“No. He probably just assumed I was making a dorky gift for Barbara or something. I thought asking him to draw a tiger would be too much.”

Tiger turned the page, and came face-to-face with the first letter Dick had kept: _Do not break anything else while I am gone._ It was the most affectionate thing Tiger could manage when their relationship was new. A badly-drawn broken bone occupied a spot of honour beside it.

“Did you draw this?”

Dick looked over his shoulder and snorted. “Yep. Can you tell?”

“Sadly, yes.”

Dick shrugged. “I tried.” The microwave beeped and he pulled out a bowl of noodles. “Here. Take all this into the living room. I'll be there in a minute.” He shoved a second bowl into the microwave and turned it on. “Go on.”

Tiger sat on the couch and balanced the scrapbook on the one bare section of the coffee table. He barely touched his noodles, staring at his handwriting telling the story of their relationship... of Tiger becoming more comfortable with the concept of a relationship at all.

_Prayer. Go back to sleep. I love you._

Tiger remembered being embarrassed as he wrote it, of avoiding Dick all day afterwards. He still had Dick's response, tucked into his backpack with all the other notes he had kept. He left his noodles balanced carefully on the couch and hurried back to the bedroom, where he dug a book of his own out of the bag.

Dick was on the couch with his own noodles when Tiger returned. “Ooh, what's that?”

“Why did you put my notes in a scrapbook?” Tiger asked.

“Couldn't sleep one morning,” Dick replied. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He rested the book on Dick's bare legs. “I did not draw anything. Sorry.”

Dick patted the couch. “Don't be sorry. You saw how bad my art was.”

Tiger sat back down and ate several mouthfuls of noodles while Dick paged through the book. Dick was always fun to watch, but especially now as his smile grew bigger and bigger with every letter he reread.

“Remember this one?” Dick asked, tapping one that just read: _I love you too_.

Tiger nodded, his throat suddenly too tight for speech. He had found it in his room the evening he spent the whole day avoiding Dick. For some reason, he had not expected Dick to say it back.

“I still love you, by the way,” Dick said.

“I love you too.” The words came more easily now than ever.

Dick kept flipping through the book. “Aw, you kept our candy wrapper notes. I'd hoped you hadn't lost them.” He smoothed down the wrinkled corner of one Tiger had written: _I love you but please stop singing_. Dick had written one in response: _Please don't make me choose between the two greatest loves of my life_.

Tiger's response to _that_ had been short and to the point: _You disgust me_. He had meant it in jest, obviously.

“Being on the run was exhausting,” Dick said, “but I had a great time with you.”

“I feel the same.”

“Glad you didn't kill Helena and ruin everything?”

Tiger rolled his eyes, but still said yes. He had not wanted to kill her, but that had been the only option at the time.

“And look! We're together again.” Dick nudged him. “We should keep up the notes, you know. I like looking back on them.”

Tiger liked that, too.

Then they kissed, and he never wanted to leave again.

* * *

Their relationship continued in fits and starts and stolen moments for the next few years, until one day Tiger passed Dick an envelope after they'd spent their first night together in months... again.

“What's this?”

“Open it.” Tiger grabbed a fistful of the bedsheets to fight the nerves, relieved that Dick was focused on the envelope rather than him.

Dick pulled Tiger's note out, and a pair of rings fell onto the sheets. “No _way_.” He opened the letter so quickly that he almost tore it.

“Read it aloud?” Tiger requested.

Dick was already grinning wider than Tiger had ever seen. “Sure, babe. _Dear, Richard. I apologise for the formality, but it seemed appropriate. We have spent so much of our time apart and it has given me time to think about our relationship. I have grown tired of seeing you once every few weeks at best. I want to see you every day. I want to wake up to your sleeping face, even when you drool on the pillow and talk in your sleep. I want to eat breakfast with you and watch your eyes slowly wake as the caffeine hits your system. I want to hear your praise your family whenever they achieve their goals, and I want to watch you reach your own. I want to spent the rest of my life with..._ ” Dick trailed off, blinking rapidly towards the ceiling.

Tiger had spent so much time agonising over what to write that knew the letter by heart, so he kept talking, “ _I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you more than anything else in the world_ —and I really wish you were still reading this because I am embarrassing myself.”

“Shut up,” Dick said thickly. “Keep going.”

“I cannot do both at once.”

Dick elbowed him. “Fine. I'll do it. _Richard Grayson, will you marry me?_ ” He dropped the letter. “Of course I will, Tiger.” Then he leaned over and threw a second envelope into Tiger's lap. “Great minds think alike, huh? Shame I hadn't finished writing the letter, damn you.”

Tiger shook out a second pair of rings, and they laughed together.

Dick finished his letter and proposed to Tiger the following afternoon. Those letters became their wedding vows.

They reread their love letter scrapbooks every anniversary, and Tiger pretended he wasn't crying each time. Dick never teased him for it.

Years later, they still wrote little notes for each other and pasted them into a new, shared scrapbook. From the mundane to the just plain strange—from _gone out to get milk_ to _sorry babe had to rescue seventeen cats from the same tree—_ every note had its own little position of honour.

Every time they fought, every time they missed each other, they could look back on those notes and remember why they were sharing a life together. Even though they bought each other plenty of gifts over the years, from new plates to the world's ugliest shirt to an orange kitten they called Tony, nothing could ever compare to the gift they had given each other right at the beginning.

Neither Dick nor Tiger could remember who had written the first note, but that person had been a genius.


End file.
